One’s location on the landscape is not just a physical point. It’s an intersection where norms, history, gender, and other social categories converge. In short, the walking method is inescapably intersectional. When I’m standing at the intersection of Espino Street and Mondonedo Street inside UPLB, I see artifacts of colonialism (Baker Hall and the half of Freedom Park surrounding the fertility tree). This was once the Japanese internment camp. And yet today, the same spaces are used for events, and people go here for recreation. So, these spaces are socio-historical. Even when walking alone, I’m never truly by myself. I’m surrounded by reminders of the past, which now bring reconstructed meanings and new narratives we’ve attached to them. When I walk in these spaces, I cut through their meanings with my own multiple layers of meaning: my gender, my multiple disabilities, my spiritual and religious background, my regional identity, etc. So, a writer who chooses a walking method can never escape these layers and intersections. Even if they don’t write explicitly about these subjects, since they walk on multi-layered grounds, they must consider them at least while executing their project. But this also means that since walking is rigorously intersectional, a work borne through it will most likely be complex, which warrants a multi-layered reading. Our letters can never be about one thing.